by Rae Monet
As they traveled together, she felt their bond grow stronger daily. They began to know each other, talking of his life after he had been lost to them. She shared some of the Realm's history with him, trying her best to fill the chasm that had been left in his life.
His confidence in his abilities grew more each day. His senses were strong, much stronger it seemed than hers or Richard's. Roan sometimes sensed her thoughts even before she voiced them. Her desire for him grew stronger, although she tried to block her feelings from him as much as he tried blocking his.
Nonetheless, his intense emotions were always close to the surface, flowing over her like warm waves at the most inopportune times. While practicing with her swords, running water over her face at the river, or simply stroking Greystar, she would sense his needs like a hungry peasant catching the scent of a roasting boar, and she would answer them against her better judgment, with her own.
They traveled continuously, mostly through the night. Determined to catch Ziem, they wasted little time to rest.
Today they had taken a small reprieve from the weariness of travel to rest. The day was clear, with the sun casting a welcome heat on the surrounding forest. Steam rose off the drying leaves. They were all grateful for the sun, which gave them a relief from the misty rain that had plagued them most of the week. The rain had left them bone cold and at times so wet that Serena feared they would never dry.
Serena and Roan had worked in unison to build a fire, and Roan had spread as much of their clothing as they dared remove around the fire to dry.
They sat next to each other on cloaks spread over a damp log, their hands outstretched toward the small fire, trying to saturate their bodies with heat before they returned to their mounts. They had agreed to share their warmth while waiting for their clothes to dry and Roan's naked shoulder brushed against hers. Richard had graciously volunteered to gather more wood.
"Tell me of your castle and about your people?"
* * * *
Her question didn't surprise him. Serena's curiosity about his life was natural. With the exception of hunting and an occasional mission outside the Realm, she had known no other world.
He tried to concentrate on her question as his gaze caressed her bare shoulders, drifting to her mark. He was fascinated by the symbol permanently ornamented to her body. He was unable to see his with any detail without uncomfortably contorting his body; therefore, he frequently gazed at hers.
Roan's action was mostly out of curiosity, though he had to admit, he watched Serena because he found her irresistible. Her mark was beautiful, almost as striking as the woman it adorned. Without meaning to, his hand rose to touch it and he felt her shiver, instantly rousing emotions that washed over him like a dangerous tide. His thumb followed the dark lines outlining the wolf as his hand gently fell to her shoulder. He heard her sharp intake of breath as his other hand fanned out on her adjoining shoulder.
"How does your wound feel?” he asked, softly running his hand over the unhealed wound, turning to tug her body between his legs. He now had uninhibited access to the curve of her back. She did not answer as his hands continued to massage her shoulders, moving up to her neck in tender strokes. He very slowly lifted the dark hair off of her neck and pushed it over her shoulder. He watched it unravel from his hand to cascade through his fingers and come to its final resting place.
Her hair was so soft, so exquisite, such a unique color, dark black with a hint of red highlights blended in. His hand lingered on the back of her head, then returned to its gentle ministrations, reaching up under her halter and sliding down her spine, kneading the soreness the hours of riding had brought about. He heard her clear her throat, felt her crowded senses mingling with his, a reaction to his actions.
He couldn't help but smile. He wanted to remove the halter he was toying with and caress her breasts, touch the nipples, claim them with his mouth, touch the buds with the tip of his tongue, and suck each one until they beaded with her desire.
"It is fine.” She finally answered him as her head fell to one side. She groaned, he assumed, when he came to a particularly sore area. Unable to resist, he leaned forward and placed his lips to the invitingly exposed area of her neck. His mouth caressed the silky skin of her shoulder and neck, with soft but slow, tantalizing kisses.
Her reaction was instantaneous, the warning in her voice clear, “Roan!"
He laughed against her neck. “Will you answer my question or are you too distracted?” His voice softened with the gentle progress of his hands as he turned her in his arms so she was facing him. There was no doubt he had disturbed her, but he was much more unhinged than she could ever think to be.
He watched her smile at his bemused expression, and her small hand came to rest on the roughness of his cheek. His reaction to her touch was immediate, and desire penetrated his mind. Unconsciously, his eyes closed, his hands coming up to wrap into her hair and travel around the back of her neck as he drew her forward. He would never get enough of this woman, no matter how long he stayed with her. He kept his eyes shut and let his mind reach out to her. He sensed what she was feeling, where his lips needed to be to touch, he would always have the ability to feel his way to her.
"Did you forget my question, Roan?"
Her query had him smiling, he groaned when he felt her hands travel to rest at the pulse in his neck. His pulse started to dance against her touch, responding to her as if she were commanding it to increase. As always, he was surprised by the smallness of her hands on his large body. Her two hands together barely covered his neck.
"Most definitely. I have completely lost it,” he answered, smiling as she leaned forward and rested her cheek against his. Her cheek was so soft, so smooth and delicate beyond that of his softest woven, worn tunic. His hands deliberately angled her head as he tilted it back slightly. His lips slid along her cheek to her lips.
Jesu, he wanted her. Now.
He felt her sweet breath exhale against his mouth and sensed she had been waiting for him, for his lips. The softness of her lips astonished him. He had kissed many women. He could woo a woman to his bed with a simple pointed look, a result—he was told—of his extraordinary looks, coupled with a strength and gentleness that most women found they could not resist.
He had always been in control of his bed play up until that final moment when he would pull out to avoid any unwanted bastards. But no woman had ever stirred his blood as this one did. With an effortless look, or an undemanding touch, she made him lose track of all time and the existence of the outside world.
He wanted much, much more from her than a kiss, he thought, as his tongue slipped into the recess of her mouth. He groaned when her tongue matched his.
Much, much more.
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her body the last three inches into his. His hands tightened on her head, fisting in her hair as he felt himself losing control of his desire.
How could she have ever thought they could be enemies?
The concept almost made him laugh—almost.
Calm, he told himself. But Roan couldn't convince himself to stop these emotions, and her abandoned response to him was not helping. She all but melted against his naked chest. Now he deeply regretted shedding his clothing to dry, as her small hand moved over his rapidly beating heart, caressing the muscles on his chest.
God, Richard could come back at any moment and catch me ravishing his chaste sister, he thought.
For a man who prided himself on his concentration and focus, he was certainly losing this battle. With great effort, he reluctantly opened his fists and released her, sliding back away from her on the log, distancing himself, his breathing as rapid and uneven as hers.
He felt as if he had just fought in a long, tiring skirmish. He closed his eyes and dropped his head, trying to concentrate on regaining his control. His body had other ideas as he hardened against his damp breeches. He cursed his emotions and his tendency to let his desire run away from him every time she so
much as glanced at him. But then he sensed Serena's bewilderment at his frustration. He abruptly looked up raising his eyes to hers.
He watched as she shook her head telling him not to blame himself or to feel any regret. “Do not.” And that was all she voiced out loud. He knew what she was saying without her even voicing the words. He heard her thoughts in his mind.
Do not feel guilt for what comes naturally to us, for the desire and bond we feel with each other. Set aside the lines of propriety from your world and step into mine, where you have the freedom to release your emotions. School it only in battle, when it has the ability to destroy you, but not here, and not now. Let it go, it will not be often that we will be able to do so.
She was so wise, he thought, as he watched her face and listened to her words with his heart.
So small, so young, so beautiful and so right.
There would be little chance to let down their guard, they needed to be battle ready at all times. She unfolded herself from the log where he had pushed her, stood, and approached him.
He was relieved. She wasn't angry with him, and for that he was grateful. He had been out of line, out of control.
In the last week, he had tried hard to school his lust, only releasing the emotion when it overpowered him so much that he could no longer restrain it. He wanted to respect her feelings; he knew she didn't desire a close relationship with him. Oddly, it was the small actions that took him over the edge. The stroke of her hand on her horse, watching the water pool over her neck and drop between her breasts when she washed, the play of her muscles when she showed him a special move with her sword.
Today, however, he had released his desire deliberately, and it was much stronger than he thought it would be. In a way he feared it, and then she had responded. His gaze locked with hers as she dropped down in front of him on the log where he had moved to place distance between them. He almost laughed at the concept of creating a physical gap from her.
What was I thinking? he wondered.
There could never be enough distance between him and this woman, because they were linked much more intimately with their minds, transcending the physical space he tried to place in their path.
His eyes ran over her face as she knelt down before him, between his legs, precariously balancing herself on the log as she aligned her face with his. His arms automatically came around her to anchor her against him and balance her. She framed his face between her small hands, leaning against his body, whispering against his lips as she tenderly kissed him, “Never be sorry for what you feel, not with me."
"Damnation.” He swore because that's all he could think to do as the desire he worked so hard to restrain spiraled upward at the touch of her luscious lips against his. This time he gave her what she asked for. As his arm secured her against his chest, he let her feel his full, hard cock. His other hand delved back into her hair angling his head, deeply drinking from her lips as if he was dying of thirst.
He no longer cared where the hell Richard was.
She responded in kind, her small hands running through his hair, holding on as she tipped unsteadily against him. If he had not been holding her so tightly she would have fallen, but his other arm came around and pinned her strongly against his body as his mouth devoured hers. He had complete domination of her balance now, and he wasn't letting her go anywhere but into his body. Ending the kiss and coming back to his senses, he slowly pulled back. She seemed stunned speechless. He smiled at her expression and kissed her trembling lips. Her hands left his hair to touch her lips.
"You gave me permission, little one,” lifting his shoulder in a shrug.
She gave him a half-amused, half-skeptical look, and Roan embraced his happiness with a full-bodied laugh, hugging her against him.
Richard, obviously wanting to warn them of his return, began whistling a lively Celtic tune that had him smoothly setting Serena at least one foot away from him.
She still seemed bewildered at his laughter, though she eventually joined him. The captivating cadence of her amusement did nothing to cool him off. It only increased his desire for her.
Richard eyed them warily as he entered the clearing, and as he hunkered down to drop the wood, he said nothing, just continued humming.
Serena didn't even notice Richard as she kept her eyes locked with his.
"I gave you permission, did I?"
"Yes, my lady.” He rose and bowed toward her, touching his hand to his head in a silent reminder that she had spoken to him. “You most certainly did."
She fanned her red face with her hand. She crooked a finger at him so she could whisper in his ear, “You definitely took the chill from my bones. With enemies like you..."
He chuckled. Good God, he thought, if his men could see him now he would never hear the end of it. At her words his face had reddened like an untouched maiden after her first kiss. It was downright embarrassing. He had never done that before.
"It unquestionably did take that chill away, little one.” He confirmed, stepping toward the fire.
"You still have yet to answer my question,” she told him, and he lowered himself next to her after adjusting their clothes around the fire.
Richard sauntered over after adding wood to the flames and sat with obvious gratitude next to him, glancing at Serena in obvious discomfort.
"Jesu, if I never sat on another horse again I would be sincerely happy.” He groaned and joined Roan and Serena in conversation.
"Richard, Roan was about to tell me about his home.” Serena told Richard as she patted his shoulders with affection from her perch on the log.
"Let me see ... tell you of my castle and people was the question, if I remember correctly?"
She winked at him.
He was amazed how much he laughed and smiled when he was with her. He shook his head and smiled to himself, again wondering what his own knights would think if they saw him. What would they say about this jovial, content man he seemed to become when he was with Serena and Richard? In comparison, when he was with his men, he was a serious, focused warrior.
"Ahhh,” He leaned forward and rested his arms against his knees as he began to talk about his home.
"They are a small band of misfits, loyal to Wolfsmoor and me until both perish.” That was the best way he could think to describe his knights. He gazed out over the forest as he pictured his small castle nestled on the Scottish border.
"They would kill, lie, steal, and die for me. In return for their loyalty, they rely completely on me for their safekeeping and that of their families, in my keep. They rely on my generosity as a landowner to allow them to work my land and feed their families. They depend on my judgment to uphold the law and make fair decisions on their tenant disputes. They expect me to train their sons to make them the best fighters England has to offer. They need my protection, in the event of war or siege.” He tried to make it sound simple, but in his heart he knew it was not. His was a weighty duty, and his people relied upon him for their lives. He swung his expectant gaze to meet Serena's and Richard's, to see the reaction his words had caused. Both seemed speechless.
"It is a heavy responsibility to hold the lives of so many in your hands.” Her quiet assessment humbled him.
"Yes, it is.” He squeezed her hand.
"How is it you are able to leave and join us?” she asked with a tilt of her head.
He recognized that tilt. She did that when she was feeling inquisitive. He smiled to himself for identifying her now familiar gesture of curiosity. Something he had never cared to notice in other women. With Serena, her body language was endearing. “Stephen, my half-brother, and Ian, my trusted friend, will see to matters while I am gone.” She nodded, her eyes dropping to their entwined hands.
"You cannot stay with us for long, can you? You have much to account for at home, am I correct?"
He avoided answering Serena as his hand tightened on hers. He faced away toward the surrounding trees.
"I will stay with you for as lon
g as I can,” he promised. She dipped her head as her other hand came forward to cover their entwined fingers. She didn't speak to him, not even with her mind sense. She seemed sad as she released his hand and rose from her seat pulling the daggers from her thigh as she went.
"I would like to teach you another lesson.” He raised his eyebrows at her remark but didn't comment out loud.
There is a lesson you could teach me but it would require Richard to leave. Like...
She ignored him, walking away from camp. She strode toward a tree about seventy yards away. She touched the sturdy oak tree, lightly running her hand over the aged bark. She pointed at the tree then focused her eyes on Richard and Roan.
"Our target,” she loudly declared.
He nodded his head in silent understanding.
Walking back, she swept toward Richard holding out her hand. “Your daggers,” she demanded.
Richard gave her a lazy smile as if he knew her game and pulled a dagger from individual sheaths on each of his boots, dropping both into her hand, carved handle first.
She now had four daggers in her hand. She stepped back toward the tree, facing them. She began to speak as she threw one dagger straight into the air in front of her face.
Although he very badly wanted to remove the daggers from her hands, he remained where he was,
"Balance, concentration and control are the keys to a successful Wolf Warrior defense.” She began to juggle the daggers, adding one at a time until all four were moving gracefully in a circle through the air.
He very slowly and carefully rose to his feet, his heartbeat accelerating.
"Ignoring distractions and other's emotions are critical.” She tossed the daggers higher, making his heart skip in his chest.
"Richard, throw me one of Roan's daggers, when I signal.” Richard carefully removed a dagger from the sheath at his boot. He tried to stop him, but he stayed it when Richard shook his head no. His eyes swung back to Serena, and his blood rushed to his head, causing him to gasp in alarm.
Was she mad?
She could be killed at any moment, those daggers were sharpened to a razor's edge.
